


Blood and Whiskey

by LongWayHomee



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Depression, F/M, Hospitals, M/M, Recovery, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-10
Updated: 2014-06-22
Packaged: 2018-01-04 06:52:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1077893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LongWayHomee/pseuds/LongWayHomee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the battle of New York, Tony Stark's life has been quickly spiralling downwards. Since Pepper left him, he's been getting worse. One night, he decides to end it all, and is rescued by none other than Bruce Banner. As Bruce helps him along the rocky road to recovery, the two Avengers can't help but feel something sparking between them. Rated Teen and up for themes of suicide, mild sexual content, and language.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lost

Tony Stark was blackout drunk. But this time, it wasn’t at a party. There were no girls at the tower tonight, not even any friends to keep him company. Just a man and his emotions. He lay, semi-conscious, on his bedroom floor. A bottle of Jack Daniels whiskey lay next to him, leaking a bit onto the floor by his head. His head pounded, and his shirt was sticky from the alcohol dripping down it. But at least this was better than being left alone with his thoughts.

Ever since the New York incident, Tony had been in a steady downwards spiral. First the confusion, then the anxiety attacks, then Pepper leaving him, then the drinking. But the drinking is never just drinking, oh no. it’s always to block something out, isn’t it? So what exactly is it that this wealthy, charismatic playboy wants to get out of his head? The flashbacks. Those moments in battle, right before a kill. It’s no wonder so many soldiers have psychological issues. It’d have some effect on even the strongest. People always talk about watching the light go out of someone’s eyes, and how that’s the worst part of it. But that’s not true. the worst part is the moment before that, when you see on their faces, that there’s absolutely no hope left for them. They’ve accepted the fact that they’re going to die, and there’s absolutely nothing they can do about it. They just lose the will to live. That, that’s what really gets you.

Suddenly he was back Afghanistan, in a military truck on his way to a weapons demonstration. He was in a van with three military personnel, and there was a bit of an uncomfortable silence. “I feel like you're driving me to a court-martial. This is crazy. What did I do?” He joked, attempting to lighten the mood. “ I feel like you're going to pull over and snuff me. What, you're not allowed to talk? Hey, Forrest!” One of the soldiers finally answered him

“We can talk, sir.”

“Oh, I see, so it’s personal?” He said, glad to have finally broken the awkward speech barrier.

“No, you intimidate them.” Tony was shocked to hear a woman’s voice coming from the driver’s seat.  
“Good God, you're a woman. I honestly... I couldn't have called that.” She laughed a bit. “I mean, I'd apologize, but isn't that what we're going for here? I thought of you as a soldier first.”   
“I'm an airman.” She told him, keeping her eyes on the road. “You have, actually, excellent bone structure there. I'm kind of having a hard time not looking at you now.” She blushed, and stared straight ahead to try to hide it. “Is that weird? Come on, it's okay, laugh.”

Now that they were all more comfortable, conversation was flowing easily. Tony had a way with people. One of the soldiers looked young, maybe 25 at most. “Would it be cool if I took a picture with you?” he asked hesitantly.

“It would be very cool.” Tony replier encouragingly. The young man scooted towards him and held up a camera. He made a peace sign with his other hand. “No gang signs!” Tony joked, but the soldier took him a bit too seriously. “No, throw it up. I’m kidding.” Just as he was clicking the button, they felt a jolt. There were a few seconds of chaos and panicking, and Tony as pushed out of the truck. Moments later, a burst of flames came from the van. Tony covered his face and looked away. Once he could feel that the heat was dying down, he looked back. Everyone who had been with him in the van was gone. Dead. Nothing but ashes. And with a jolt, he realised it was all his fault.

Tony would look back on this day for years to come as the day when it all began. This was the first death that was his responsibility and he had witnessed, the first that had really affected him personally. He had known his weapons were killing people, but until now, it hadn’t been his problem. He had been detached. Now, it was personal.

These memories had been coming back to haunt Stark all too often. Especially now that Pepper was gone, Tony just didn’t see a way out. Days were just passing by without any real meaning or purpose. He didn’t know how much longer he could take it. He used to be someone. People used to want to be with him, get his autograph, take pictures. Now, not even those he considered friends wanted to hang around him. Some days, he just felt like giving up and ending it once and for all. Today was one of those days.

Tony raised the bottle he was clutching to his mouth, only to find that it was empty. Suddenly, a familiar voice sounded.

“Sir, are you alright? You have four missed calls on the system.” Jarvis informed him. Tony grunted.

“Fine...’m fine...” the brown haired man mumbled from the floor.

“It appears that the levels of alcohol in our bloodstream are higher than is healthy, Sir.”

“I just needa sleep, ’s gonna be fine.” He muttered hazily. “y’can go now.” he made a feeble attempt to wave his hand at the monitor. A few moments later, he heard no reply, and assumed Jarvis was asleep. Tony managed to push himself into a sitting position, then prepared to drag himself onto his bed. As he pushed up, his head hit the corner of the polished wood bedside table. He let out a curse and a moan of pain. After a second attempt, Tony found himself sprawled out on his back on the elegant four poster bed. He raised a shaky hand to his head, and when he drew it away is was sticky and wet with blood and whiskey. He weakly attempted to wipe it off on his blue iron maiden t shirt, but couldn’t put in the effort. This was the mess his life had become. Frankly, he thought, it wasn’t much of a life. Not one worth living, anyways.

His head was pounding furiously. It was like someone had drilled through his temple and into the back of his head. Maybe an aspirin would help, thought Tony. He pushed himself up into a sitting position and winced. Even that small movement made him feel dizzy. The bathroom was only about five feet away, but five feet felt like five feet too much for him in his current state. On the other hand, he really needed something to help this headache. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and braced himself against the wooden frame. Slowly, he pushed up into standing position. His knees felt like they were about to give, so he staggered across to the bathroom as quickly as he could. He leant against the doorframe and breathed heavily. After getting his breath back, he stumbled into the room itself. The medicine cabinet sat right above the bathtub, so he sat down on the edge of the tub and began searching through the cupboard.

After a minute or so of searching, he found a bottle of aspirin. As he was pulling it out of the cupboard, a bottle of sleeping pills fell into his lap. He picked up the bottle and examined it. There was a large warning label on the side that read “WARNING: OVERDOSING ON THIS MEDICATION CAN BE FATAL.” He turned it slowly in his hand. Downing this entire bottle would probably kill him. He’d be dead. No more problems, nothing to worry about. No more existing. Gone. Just like that. That would be so much easier... Suddenly, a voice jerked him out of his thoughts. Jarvis again. “Sir, you have a call waiting on the line from-”

“Tell ’em to call later, I’m busy” Tony managed to spit out.

“Alright, sir.” Tony sighed and dropped his head into one hand. He tried to tell himself it was a stupid idea, but some part of him was telling him to take the sleeping pills. Nobody would miss him. Pepper could come back in to take over Stark Industries. Nobody needed him. And the guilt, the guilt was too much. Every night it haunted him, their faces. he could remember each one. The face of every single person, or alien, he had ever killed. They could have had families. They could have had kids. Maybe their parents were still alive. What poor soul had the job of telling someone’s parents that their pride and joy, their precious angel, was dead? Who got to tell their wives?

Their wives. That brought back memories. Memories of nights in, parties, romantic dinners for two, and all the good times he’d had with Pepper. But those barely lasted a second before they turned to memories of fights, nights sleeping alone, and then finally the breakup. That breakup had destroyed him. He still remembered the last time she walked out the door, and how he had pleaded with her, but she wouldn’t have it. She was still in charge of his company, and seeing her so often destroyed him. She was the most beautiful, funny, sexy, down to earth woman he had ever met. He couldn’t believe he’d ever taken what they had for granted. He’d been too cocky, too self assured, and she was just sick of Tony. As a matter of fact, Tony was sick of Tony too.

So sick of himself, in fact, that he really didn’t feel he deserved to live. He’d taken so many lives, what was one more? The only difference was, this life was his own. But he was no better a man than the countless others whose deaths could be blamed on him. He’d been destroying his life steadily for the last few months, really. Before, he’d go out and drink and party, then it had descended to staying in and drinking, and gradually sunk to this trainwreck he was now. Slumped half conscious on the edge of his bathtub, soaked in blood and whiskey. Half his blood probably was whiskey now, considering how much he’d drank. His body felt like it had been rolled over by a steamroller. Twice. And people always say, in these situations, “It gets better”, but honestly, Tony didn’t see much of a chance of that happening. Any fragment of hope he had had was now gone.

Subconsciously, he had unscrewed the cap for the sleeping pills. He looked into the bottle. It was mostly full. Perfect. Time to end this. He took a deep breath. He was in too much pain and not sober enough to write a note. That’s what people usually did, wasn’t it? It was to tell everyone they love goodbye. Well, there was nobody Tony loved, and nobody that loved him. He was alone. In one swift motion, he swung the bottle of pills to his lips and with a trembling hand, poured out as many as he could swallow. He gulped them down. This was it. It’s over now. He’d only swallowed about a quarter of the bottle, which wasn’t quite fatal. Just as he was lifting his hand again, he had a sudden convulsion and fell to the floor. His vision blurred as he rolled on the ground in excruciating pain. Lying on his side, he started to hyperventilate, and then vomited. The vomit sprayed all over the floor and himself. He was vaguely aware of some background noise, probably Jarvis again, but he couldn’t focus on it. This was the end. He would never wear his Iron Man suit, never see Pepper, never laugh with Rhodey or Happy, never see Bruce or any of the other Avengers. This really was the end. His consciousness was slipping away. Someone burst into the room and there was some yelling, then he felt his body being lifted up into a comforting embrace. Whoever was holding him drew him in close, and he could feel who it was. Bruce. A ghost of a smile drifted across his face. Now, he could finally die happy.


	2. Saved

Bruce hadn't slept all night. He'd ridden to the hospital with Tony in an ambulance, but when they arrived the doctor had told him he had to wait outside. Bruce had been sitting in the waiting room since then. He'd tried to sleep, but he was too worried about Tony to get any rest. He'd noticed Tony had been slipping in the last few months, but he'd never suspected it was this bad. And seeing Tony weak and vulnerable on the floor like that; it had done something to Bruce. Tony had always been the strong one, always ready with a witty comment or a smirk. He'd been hiding behind this wall for so long, nobody had even noticed when he needed help. Bruce felt partly guilty himself; he should have realised earlier that Tony was in danger. He should've been there for his friend, instead of hiding away in his lab. Although, in fairness, Tony spent an equal amount of time hidden away in his. A tap on the shoulder jerked Bruce away from his thoughts. A pretty blonde nurse was smiling at him cheerily. Bruce stood up suddenly. "How's Tony? Is he alright?" THe nurse gave him a sympathetic smile.

"We've finished pumping his stomach. He's still asleep, but you can come in and see him. He should be waking up sometime in the next hour, you're welcome to stay until then. After he's awake, we're going to have to ask that you leave after half an hour to let him get some rest." Bruce nodded his understanding, and got up to follow the nurse to Tony's room.

As Bruce pushed open the door, he had to hold back a gasp. Tony look as if he had aged twenty years since Bruce had found him. His body was frail and weak, and his skin was ghostly pale. He had a few grey hairs sprinkled through his hair and beard. There was an IV inserted into his left arm, and the surrounding area was an angry red. There was a large scar on his chest from where the arc reactor had once been, and his stomach below was bandaged. Tony still smelled like alcohol and vomit, but Bruce still moved towards him. He looked so out of place in this sparkly clean environment, the man lying on that cold white bed barely seemed like Tony.

Instinctually, Bruce had sat down by Tony's bedside. Stark's hand was dangling off of the edge of the bed. Without thinking, Bruce reached out to take it. Tony's fingers were cold, and his hand was limp. Bruce pulled the other man's hand into his own and held it reassuringly. Seeing this as her queue that Bruce wanted some time alone with the patient, The nurse left the room, reminding Bruce quickly to come get her when Tony woke. Bruce nodded, still entranced with Tony's hand.

Hands can tell you a lot about a person. For example, Tony's fingernails were very short and dirty, suggesting that he spent a lot of time working and didn't really care about his was true now, though it hadn't always been. Tony used to be quite vain, and although that had been annoying, Bruce had preferred that Tony to the one that lay before him now.

Tony's grip on Bruce's hand suddenly tightened. Bruce's eyes snapped to Tony's face immediately. A groan escaped Stark's mouth, and his eyelids began to slowly move open. Tony's eyes wandered the rooms for a few minutes before focusing on Bruce. Bruce looked at him, concerned. The billionaire attempted to smile, but his lips were too dry to manage it. His eyes quickly darted to his hand in Bruce's, and he gave a vaguely confused look, but didn't question it. Bruce figured Tony was either too tired to ask, or just glad to have him there.

Just then, the smiling blonde nurse from earlier poked her head in. "Oh, I'm glad to see that you're up, Mister Stark. I'll be back with the doctor to do some tests in ten minutes, and to see how you're feeling. Mister Banner, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave when I get back." Bruce nodded.

"I understand. When will I be able to come back and visit?" The nurse quickly consulted her notes.

"You can visit tomorrow, but not for too long. We need to make sure that Mister Stark here gets his rest to ensure a fast recovery." Bruce nodded again.

"Thanks for all the help, nurse-" The nurse cut him off with a shake of her head.

"You can call me Annie."

"Once again, thanks for everything, Annie." Annie gave a smile and a friendly nod, before dashing off to go find the doctor. Bruce sat and listened to the sound her shoes made as she hurried down the hall. Gradually, the click of her heels faded away into the general commotion of the hospital. Bruce and Tony sat in silence for a minute, still holding hands. The silence was a bit uncomfortable, because Tony quite clearly found it a bit strange to have another man holding his hand like this, but Bruce wasn't sure that it was a bad kind of strange. Eventually, Bruce spoke.

"How're you feeling?" Tony tried to lift his head but evidently failed, as it came crashing back down to the pillow.

"Shitty." Tony's voice was groggy and Bruce could tell just by hearing his friend speak that it was painful. He gently ran his thumb over Tony's knuckles in reassurance.

"Everything's gonna be okay." Bruce stopped for a minute, smirking a bit as he realised this was exactly what Tony didn't want to hear. Bruce had been in his fellow scientist's position before, and he knew that that wouldn't help. He tried again. "Hey, I know what you're feeling right now. Or what you were feeling last night. Like there's never gonna be an end. Your very existence just seems pointless. But I can promise you, it's not. You'll be glad it didn't work. Hey, look at me. Just a few years ago, I stuck a gun in my mouth and pulled the trigger. Nearly every day I think back on that, and how glad I am it didn't work. There's something or someone out there for you, all you gotta do is go find that."

After Bruce's little motivational speech, there was another minute or two of silence. This time it was more comfortable, and a bit of warmth was starting to return to Tony's hand. Tony had quickly fallen back asleep, but not until giving Bruce a look of thanks and an attempt at a smile. Bruce absentmindedly ran his thumb along the skin below Tony's knuckles as he stared at the injured man's face.

He looked so delicate and vulnerable, which was something Bruce hadn't seen Tony as before. He had always been the Iron Man, invincible and witty, flirty and sarcastic, just exuding confidence. This man lying before him wasn't Iron Man. It wasn't Tony Stark, billionaire inventor and playboy. This was just Tony. A regular, fragile, undeniably human person. And that made him every bit more perfect. From the stubble on his chin to the rise and fall of his chest to the way his eyelids fluttered when he slept, he was perfect. Even with his body bandaged and his skin pale and gaunt, he still looked handsome.

Bruce had always admired his fellow Avenger, but as of late he'd began to wonder if it was more than just admiration. Bruce had always thought he was straight, but recently he'd been questioning that. Tony, on the other hand, appeared to be just about as straight as a man could get. He used to have a different woman in his bed every night before he met Pepper. Looking at him now, Bruce could definitely see the appeal. Even at his weakest and sickest, Bruce could still see the traces of Tony's charm. Bruce thought back to the last time he had seen his friend sober and happy. His jet black hair was mussed with a just woken up look, and the light dustings of gray just made him look more mature and sophisticated. His strong cheekbones and well defined jawline conveyed a sort of strength that very few people had. His flirtatious smirk and the charismatic sparkle in his eyes attracted attention from everyone, be they news reporters or fans or government officials. Tony knew people. He knew how to bend them to his will, to charm and manipulate them into loving him and being his slaves. That quality could be dangerous in a person, because sometimes, he didn't realise he was doing it. And sometimes, by the time he did, it was too late to drag someone out of his spell.

There was a knock on the door. Annie walked back in, this time with an older man, presumably the doctor. He asked Bruce some questions to which he replied, half in a daze. "Does Mister Stark have any family?"

"Not that I know of."

"Does he live alone?"

"Yeah." They continued in this manner for five minutes or so, until the doctor shook Bruce's hand and told him that he could come back tomorrow around three. Bruce thanked him, and wandered slowly out into the hall. The entire ride back to his hotel, he was still thinking about Tony, lying half dead on that hospital bed. He'd thought about it before, but it had only really crossed him mind. Now, he was almost sure of it. What he had mistaken for admiration, he now realised was so much more than that. He pulled to an abrupt stop at a traffic light. _Oh my God,_  Bruce thought, head in hands. _I have a crush on Tony Stark._


	3. Pepper Potts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pepper Potts arrives at the hospital to talk to Tony's doctor, and discovers some shocking new information about his condition.

The last two days had been a blur for Tony. Nurses and doctors had been rushing in and out, checking his blood pressure and heart rate and god knows what. He’d been faintly aware of some reporters outside, trying to get a picture or a statement, but the nurses had kept them out. He remembered being home and completely hammered and going into the bathroom, swallowing a bottle of pills, then Bruce was there. Bruce had been there again when he woke up, sitting by his bedside and holding his hand. That was unexpected, but nice. It made Tony feel safe, like he wasn’t alone anymore.

Through the haze of noises and shapes surrounding him, Tony noticed a nurse approaching his bed. She smiled widely, before grabbing a clipboard and pencil from the table next to Tony. “Mr. Stark, so happy to see that you’re awake. How do you feel?” Tony tried to speak, but his voice came out faint and gravelly. He cleared his throat, wincing at the acidic feeling in the back of his mouth. He tried again.

“Half dead.” The nurse smiled sympathetically.

“I’m just going to move your bed so you’re in a seated position, alright?” Tony nodded, wincing as he slowly moved up. He would normally be ashamed to look so weak, but now he was just too exhausted to care. The nurse spoke again. “There we go. Better?” Tony nodded, relaxing into his new position. He looked around the room, taking in his surroundings. The room was barren and cold, and smelled of medicine and stale vomit, with a hint of something metallic. His left arm was attached to an IV, which was dripping some strange blue liquid into his bloodstream. To his right there were a series of machines, beeping and displaying his vitals. It all reminded him of when he had woken up in Afghanistan hooked up to a car battery, when this whole nightmare had started.

            The nurse by Tony’s bed, who had introduced herself as Annie, was just finishing recording the numbers displayed on the many machines when there was a knock at the door. Annie went to the door, and Tony was shocked to see none other than Pepper Potts in the doorway. She stood stiffly in the entry to the room, giving Annie an awkward half smile. Tony spent a few seconds wondering what on earth his ex-fiancée was doing here, before he realized she was probably still listed as his emergency contact on all his medical information. Pepper stepped inside, trying to hide her shock at Tony’s condition. After a few uncomfortable seconds, Annie broke the silence. “You must be Pepper, so nice to meet you. I’m Annie. Would you like a minute alone with Tony, or would you rather we go ahead and meet with Doctor Mitchener?” Pepper glanced at Tony, still struggling to take in how fragile he looked. She cleared her throat, shifting her attention back to Annie.

“He looks tired, lets go straight into the meeting. I don’t want to bother him.” Annie nodded, adjusting Tony’s bed so he was once again lying down.

“Perfect, just follow me right down this way.” Annie gave Tony one last cheery smile, before ushering Pepper out the door. Tony listened to Pepper’s heels clicking down the hallway, and by the time the sound had faded away, he was fast asleep.

 

 

 

            Annie led Pepper through a series of whitewashed corridors, making cheerful small talk as they went. Pepper replied politely, but her mind was elsewhere. She’d been reluctant to come at first. After her huge breakup with Tony nearly a year ago, she’d been sure he wouldn’t want to see her again. However, since he had no family or other connections, she’d thought it was her duty to be there, even if it was only to make sure he was being properly cared for. Finally, the two women had reached the doctors office. “I’ll be back when the meeting’s over, and if Mr. Stark’s awake you can come in and say hi, alright?” Pepper nodded, taking a moment to thank Annie for everything she’d been doing. The ever-smiling nurse nodded in thanks, and hurried away down another hallway.

            A blast of cool air hit Pepper as she entered the doctor’s office.  He immediately stood to greet her, shaking her hand warmly. He was a tall man, a little over six feet, with hazelnut brown skin and a blindingly white smile. He invited her to sit down, pouring each of them a glass of water. “Hi Ms. Potts, I’m Dr. Mitchener. I’m the one overseeing all of Tony’s care. So I understand you’re his fiancée?”

“Ex.” Pepper replied automatically. “Ex fiancée.” Pepper could sense the doctor’s confusion, so decided to elaborate. “I help run his company. He doesn’t have any living relations, so I’m his emergency contact.” The man across the desk from her nodded understandingly, clearly not wanting to pry into their personal lives.

"So you’re aware of what happened on the night he arrived here?”

“Yes, it was a total shock to me. I’m just glad Bruce showed up when he did, or god knows what condition Tony would be in.” An involuntary shudder ran down Pepper’s spine, imagining how different things could have been if it weren’t for Banner.

“And you’re aware of Tony’s… unique heart condition?” She nodded, thinking back to the surgery when the arc reactor had been removed from Tony’s chest.

“What does that have to do with this?” Pepper questioned, not understanding the connection between the two events. Dr. Mitchener scratched his bald head, as if trying to think of a way to explain the situation.

“The device Stark had in his chest was polluting his bloodstream for years. When we removed it, we predicted that his blood wouldn’t be back to the way it was for five, maybe even ten years. We warned him that consuming excessive amounts of alcohol or drugs could potentially be fatal, but didn’t expect him to listen.  When he started drinking again, those drugs reacted with something in his bloodstream, some trace chemical from the arc reactor.”

“So what does that mean?”

“From what we can tell, it’s caused some sort of hormonal imbalance, which triggered a dormant gene inside him. The gene that carries paranoid schizophrenia. We believe paranoid schizophrenia has been the cause of his recent panic attacks and suicidal thoughts and actions. Usually this gene is triggered in the late teens to mid thirties, but we suspect it has something to do with the chemical imbalance caused by the arc reactor… Miss Potts?”

Pepper’s awareness had faded, dragging her into her own thoughts. She felt a whirlwind of emotions dancing through her mind. The first, and most obvious, was shock. When she came to the hospital to hear about an overdose on sleeping pills, she was in no way expecting to learn that her ex-fiancée was schizophrenic. Second, she felt guilt. Pepper knew that the arc reactor and his genetics had caused this, but she couldn’t help but feel at least partially responsible for what was happening to Tony. After all, she had caused him some pretty extreme emotional distress. “Miss Potts?” Dr. Michener’s’ voice called her back to reality. “I understand that this must be quite a shock to you, and we’ll be doing everything we can to help Tony.” She nodded, still in her own world. A door opened across the room.

“Do you want to come see Tony now?” Pepper recognized Annie’s voice. She shook her head.

“No I can’t… board meeting… going to be late…” With that, Pepper stood to leave, thanking the nurse and doctor. She trailed through the long, empty corridors, her head spinning. It wasn’t until she was hit with the warm Los Angeles sunshine that she even realized she was outside. Once in her car, Pepper decided her fist course of action would be to tell Bruce what was going on. He was probably the closest friend Tony had, so it was his right to know. She pulled her phone out of her bag, typing in Bruce’s name and hitting call. The phone rang four times before he finally picked up.

“Pepper? What’s- uh, why are you calling?”

“It’s about Tony.” There was a few seconds silence before Bruce replied.

“How is he?” Bruce asked, trying to restrain the emotions in his voice.

“He’s- um… the doctors, they- they think he’s, well, they think he has paranoid schizophrenia.” Pepper choked out, holding back tears she hadn’t even realized she wanted to cry. There was another silence.

“Fuck…that's…uh, thanks… thanks for telling me.” Even over the phone, she could hear that he was on the verge of tears. It took a lot to get Bruce Banner to cry, so Pepper thought it best if she just left him alone for a while. She was about to say so, when Bruce interrupted.

“I-I have to go, thank you Pepper.” His voice broke. Pepper opened her mouth to reply, but was cut off by the dial tone. She let the phone slide from her hand. Pepper wiped a tear from her face and sniffed. She wouldn’t let this get to her. She was his ex for a reason, she’d moved on. She started the ignition, resolutely fixing her eyes on the road ahead. She had a company to run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so this is my first real attempt at writing dialogue so please tell me what I can do to improve it! Thank you so much to everyone who's been reading this, it means so much that there are actually people out there who enjoy reading this. Happy christmas!


	4. Diagnosis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony finds out what Pepper and Bruce already know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I'm sorry it took me so long to update, but this was a really hard chapter to write. I also wanted to take some time to do some planning and research, and sort out where this story's actually going. Also I'm thinking about getting a beta reader, so if anyone's interested, feel free to let me know. Now without further ado, please enjoy!

Bruce’s hands were shaking, almost too badly to hold the gun. His heart pounding three times faster than it should, he shoved the cartridge into its cold metal chamber. As it clicked into place his glasses fell from his face, hitting the ground with a shattering of glass. Tears streaked down his face as he slowly turned the gun to face himself. With a second hand to steady the first, Bruce opened his mouth and bit down on the metal. He closed his eyes. Count to three, he muttered to himself, desperately seeking reassurance. Count to three and it’ll all be over. Here we go… He tightened his sweaty palms around the handle of the gun.  
One... his knees felt weak. He could barely support his own weight.  
Two… he took one last desperate, gasping breath.  
Three.   
Bruce woke with a start, his shirt soaked through with a cold sweat. He was clinging onto his pillow so hard his knuckles had turned white, and his breathing was frantic and shallow. Slowly loosening his grip on the pillow, Bruce sat up. He closed his eyes, trying to slow his breathing. Nightmares like this used to be a regular occurrence, and although he hadn’t had one in nearly a year, he assumed it was his stress about Tony that had triggered the frightening recount of his own suicide attempt. Looking at his bedside table, Bruce saw that it was already 5 o’clock. Nearly morning.  
Bruce pushed himself to a seated position, clumsily shoving his glasses onto his face. He dragged his feet over to the curtains, pushing them open and flooding the room with light. The warm morning sun revealed a cheap, sparsely furnished motel room. The room was painted an ugly brown-yellow, with molded water stains dotted across the ceiling. Luckily, this motel was only temporary accommodation, just until Tony was well enough to leave the hospital. When he was released, Bruce was staying in Stark Tower for a week or so to keep an eye on his friend. Bruce pulled his sweat-soaked shirt over his head, carelessly flinging it onto the bed. He pulled a worn black suitcase out from under his bed. Bruce had been in the process of moving houses when he found Tony, so everything was packed away expect for a few changes of clothes he’d hastily shoved into his luggage. His new apartment was luckily much closer to Tony, so he’d be able to stop by and check on him.   
After finally finding a clean shirt and pants, Bruce had taken a quick shower and gotten dressed. The clock now showed 6, giving him enough time to stop for breakfast and be at the hospital by seven. He stepped outside, and was immediately greeted by a burst of warm LA air. The sun shone down on the lush green palm trees, the rays lazily rolling off the long leaves. It was early enough in the morning so that the streets were relatively empty, save the regular flow of businessmen reluctantly making their way to the collection of dull office buildings on the next block.   
It was a beautiful, relaxed morning, but Bruce barely even noticed. He was too wrapped up in his own thoughts, of the alarming news he’d received from Pepper a few days ago. Discovering that his best friend was schizophrenic had come as a huge shock. After all he’d been through, it seemed impossible that something like this could happen to a man like Tony Stark. He’d always seemed intangibly strong, the way he moved and lived with such ease, never showing any sign of weakness. Always light hearted, always ready with a joke or snarky comment. The man he’d seen in the hospital yesterday barely even seemed like Tony. The whole experience was too surreal.  
When Bruce snapped out of his haze, he saw he had arrived at the hospital. He pushed through the big glass doors, stepping into the welcome coolness of the waiting room. He stepped up to the counter.  
“Hi, I’m here to see Tony Stark?”   
“Sorry, he’s not currently speaking to any reporters or fans.“ thee nurse spoke without even looking up.  
“I’m his friend.” The nurse looked up, immediately recognizing his face from the night he had arrived with Stark.  
“Oh, of course.” She laughed apologetically. “Right this way, Mr. Banner.” The nurse, a tall, tan woman in purple scrubs and black heels, led him down a series of corridors to Bruce’s room. “Go on in, he should be awake around now.” As the nurse’s shoes clicked down the empty hallway, Bruce took a breath, mentally preparing himself. In the span of a day or two, he’d realized he had romantic feelings for this man, then that he had a serious mental condition. Acting anywhere near normal was going to be a challenge. He pushed the metal door open.   
As the nurse had said, Tony was lying in his bead awake. Bruce approached his friend slowly, almost cautiously. The bedridden man smiled, quickly sitting up to greet Bruce. Bruce smiled back, dropping into the chair beside his bed. “How’re you feeling?” Bruce asked, the concern in his voice obvious.  
“Better. I’m healthy enough to sit up and talk, so that’s something.” Tony answered, letting out a small laugh. Bruce smiled, looking down at his hands. He was glad to see Tony acting a little happier, but he couldn’t help but think it felt a little forced. “The Doc thinks I should be out of here in about a week.” he continued. Bruce tried to smile, but was too anxious. He was worried, worried for Tony. Not just the shock of his illness, but what had caused him to become so desperate? Bruce saw no easy way to ask, but he had to know. He cleared his throat.   
“Hey, uh, Tony, what-“ he coughed, trying to think of the best way to ask. “What, uh, happened the other night? What made you…?”Bruce gestured vaguely. Social skills had never really been his thing, and he fidgeted anxiously as he spoke. Tony looked at him, hints of pain and confusion dancing across his face. He opened his mouth as if the speak, then closed it. After several long seconds, he began again.  
“I don’t think I can really explain it. It’s like you said, I just didn’t see an end. I mean I’ve- I’ve killed so many people, aliens too; it’s the same thing really. I just- how can I live with myself, knowing that there are people out there, families out there missing someone because of me? I ruined their lives.” Bruce was shocked by the sudden outburst of emotion, considering Tony Stark was usually a master at concealing his true feelings. Bruce sat there for a minute, at a loss for words. Finally, slowly, he replied.  
“But think of all the deaths you’ve stopped. You’ve saved so many people.” Bruce paused for a second, before adding, “Including me.” He turned to Tony, and for one second, their eyes met. There was a message in that look, a silent ‘thank you’ passed both ways, just a fraction of a whisper of what Bruce wished he could say.  
They both hastily looked away as Annie walked in, beaming her usual brilliant smile. “Hi, Mr. Banner! So nice to see you again!” she gushed, walking forward to shake his hand.  
“Please, call me Bruce.” He replied. Annie nodded cheerily, turning to Tony.   
“How’re you feeling today, Tony?”   
“I’m getting there.” He replied. Annie giggled, turning to the machinery next to his bed and checking some numbers.   
“Well the good news is your vitals are all stable, so I think we should be able to unhook all these big machines now. Are you still feeling pain anywhere?” Annie asked, as she began to unplug some of the whirring boxes.   
“A little in my head and ribs, a little more around my stomach. A lot less than yesterday, though.” Tony informed her, shifting himself to a more comfortable angle. He didn’t like anyone seeing him weak like this, even in Bruce was his best friend. He felt vulnerable, exposed, weak. He didn’t like it. Annie finished with her work, and turned to Bruce.  
“Mr. Banner, Bruce, could I speak to you outside for a minute?” Bruce nodded, reluctantly rising from his position by Tony’s bed. Annie finished some last minute adjustments, and pulled the door open. “We’ll just be a minute, Tony.” She reassured him, stepping out into the pristine white hallway. Bruce followed after her, swinging the heavy door shut.   
“So, I just wanted to give you an update on Tony’s condition. He’s healing really fast, so he should be ready to leave in around a week, maybe a little less. Of course he’ll still need to come by once a week just to check up, but he can finish his recovery at home. Now, on to the serious stuff. The doctor’s done some tests with Tony, and he says Tony has a mental illness. It’s called paranoid schizophrenia.” Bruce nodded, fighting back the lump in his throat. “Yeah I know, um, Pepper told me a couple days ago. The day she found out, I guess.” Annie nodded sympathetically, clasping her hands together tightly. Bruce hesitated for a moment, before asking, “Does Tony know?” Annie shook her head.  
“No, not yet. That’s why I wanted to talk to you. I thought maybe he’d like you to be there when he found out, for moral support.” Bruce was surprised, that really didn’t seem like normal medical procedure.   
“If you think it’ll help him…” Bruce said doubtfully, unsure of whether his being there would make things better or worse. Annie breathed a sigh of relief.  
“Thank you. I’ll go get Dr. Mitchener; you can go back in with Tony. Trust me, he’ll feel better with you there.” With that, Annie turned and headed purposefully down the hall, the clicking of her shoes echoing through the hall.  
Bruce reentered the room, once again finding a place of the hard plastic chair by Tony’s bedside.  
“What was that about?” Tony asked, quickly noticing Bruce’s reluctance to make eye contact. “Is there something you’re not telling me?” Bruce quickly shook his head.  
“No!” he replied at once, his voice breaking. “No, uh, I’m not. The doctor’s gonna come in and talk to you in a minute though, just to tell you what’s going on.”   
“Oh, okay. Cool.” He answered, although he immediately saw through Bruce’s lie.  
Just then, Dr. Mitchener and Annie walked into the room.   
“Doctor Banner! So nice to finally meet you.” Dr. Mitchener greeted him warmly, giving him a firm handshake. Annie pulled a chair from the corner of the room, passing it to the doctor and making a quick exit. He sat down, pulling the chair closer to Dean’s bed, trying to collect his thoughts. Tony looked at him expectantly. The doctor smiled back, but the smile was clearly only half hearted. “Tony.” He began. “You remember a few days ago when I asked you some questions about medical history, your family, and how your thought processes work?” Tony nodded. “Well, I had a look at those answers, and the results from your physical examination, and I have a diagnosis. Now remember, with things like this, the signs can be very easily misinterpreted in the early stages, so we’re not a hundred percent sure, but it’s more than likely that you’re living with a condition known as paranoid schizophrenia.”   
Tony’s grip on his sheet tightened, his knuckles turning white. His entire body felt numb. Any hints of colour that had been returning to his face were quickly flushed away, leaving his features pale and drained. Tony’s initial reaction was disbelief. This can’t be happening. It’s a dream, or a hallucination, or a joke. Maybe they got it wrong. His vision began to spin and blur, shapes and colours flitting in and out of his field of sight.   
“Mr. Stark?” Tony heard a voice, somehow distorted, as if it was coming from the other side of a wall.   
“Tony?” this voice was closer, right next to him. It was clear enough to him that this voice was Bruce, who he could vaguely make out standing over his bed. “Tony, focus on me. Hey, come on, look at me.” Tony felt his friend’s hands on his shoulders, their warm touch reawakening his shoulders, the heat slowly spreading up as Bruce’s hand moved. He lightly touched Tony’s face. “You okay?” as Bruce asked this, Tony’s vision cleared. He could see Banner’s face over his, his concern apparent. Tony shook his head, a lump forming in his throat.  
“No, no I’m not okay.” He muttered, trying not to let his voice break. Bruce settled back into his chair, moving his hands to the bed, near Tony’s.   
“It’s perfectly natural to have this kind of reaction, Tony.” Dr. Mitchener assured him. “But it’s important for you to know that with the proper help and guidance, you can still live a happy, healthy, fulfilling life.” Tony nodded again, not speaking out of fear that he’d start crying. Hesitantly, Bruce lifted his hand and settled it over Tony’s. He stroked his thumb reassuringly across Tony’s hand.   
“I’ll help you through this. Anything I can do, I will. Promise.” The doctor went on talking, but Bruce wasn’t listening. He was too focused on the feel of Tony’s skin on his, the rough calluses on his palms, his stubby, dirty, fingernails, and the intricate patterns of the veins lacing the backs of his hand. In that moment, Bruce knew he would do whatever he could to save his friend.


	5. Home Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony is finally released from the hospital, and Bruce relives the moments he found Tony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh I'm so bad at updating on time, please forgive me! Yeah but here's the new chapter, a big thank you to my new beta Victoria. Enjoy!

Physically, Tony was improving. He could now get out of bed and walk around, talk normally, and eat and drink. Mentally was a whole different matter. Half the times Bruce visited it seemed that Tony was barely there; he would just stare into space, with a flat, expressionless gaze. He couldn’t concentrate on anything Bruce said, quickly jumping between topics, or sometimes just not speaking at all. According to Dr. Mitchener, the reason the symptoms were manifesting so rapidly was due to the overdose, which had reacted with the palladium to cause some hormonal imbalances. He wasn’t too bad now, but he was going to get worse. This was just the beginning. Annie had offered Bruce and Pepper some booklets about what to expect and how to handle what was going to happen, all in preparation for Tony’s release. The medical team seemed eager to move him back into a familiar environment, and Tony had just gone in to a medical and psychological evaluation to decide if he was ready to be released. Normally, as Annie had explained, they would keep the patients for a bit longer to monitor their progress, but due to Tony’s celebrity status and how close he lived to the hospital, they decided it best to move him back in as soon as possible.

           

Bruce yawned, flipping through yet another list of symptoms he should expect. Social withdrawal, depression, hostility, suspicion, forgetfulness, irregular sleep habits, delusions, hallucinations, lack of emotional expression, lack of interest or enthusiasm, relationship problems, substance abuse, and increased suicide risk. He closed his eyes, dropping his head into his hands. This was all happening too fast, it still seemed completely surreal. Bruce was almost convinced he was just going to wake up back home in Ohio, all this just another bad dream. His mind started to wander, meandering through his thoughts, all the way back to the fateful night he had found Tony unconscious on his bathroom floor.

           

It was a warm night, and the streets were filled with young people out for the night, laughing and tipsily stumbling down the sidewalk. The busy New York nightlife swarmed around him, bright neon lights banishing the dark blankets of night. Music from the many bars and clubs in the area leaked out from behind the doors, beckoning the wanderers in for a drink. Bruce paid no attention to any of these, his mind on something far more important. He’d been calling Tony all night, and hadn’t gotten an answer. Of course, it was possible he’d just turned in for the night early, but Bruce felt a nagging suspicion that wasn’t the case. He hurried down the street, muttering apologies as he shoved his way through the throngs of people. When he finally reached Stark tower, Bruce dashed across the lobby, desperately pressing the elevator call button. All of the staff had left by now, eager to be out of work as soon as possible on a Friday night. The elevator smoothly slid open, and Bruce roughly jammed his key into a hidden slot and turned it. He’d been given a special access key to Tony’s apartment years ago, but hadn’t had a cause to use it until now. Usually, Tony would just let him up himself.      

The 95-floor elevator ride seemed slower than ever. Bruce impatiently paced the elevator, running a hand through his disheveled black hair. The polished wood elevator interior, the elegant crystal chandelier and the usually relaxing elevator music were doing nothing to soothe his nerves, only causing his stress to elevate. After what seemed like an eternity, the elevator finally slid open. Bruce threw himself out of the door, his blind panic consuming him as the room held no sign of Tony, but the strong stench of alcohol. “Tony?” he called, desperately running across his expansive apartment. “Tony!” his voice was raw, his panic increasing as he heard no reply. He slammed Tony’s bedroom door open, and a wave of nausea hit him. The smell of vomit and alcohol filled the room, and the ground was littered with several empty bottles of Jack Daniels. He heard a noise coming from the bathroom, a strangled yell. Bruce ran to Tony, who was convulsing on the floor, in a puddle of blood and whiskey. A bottle of sleeping pills lie by his hand, half empty. Bruce quickly pieced together what had happened. “Oh my god, Tony, what’d you do?” he choked out, collapsing to his knees by his friend’s side. “Jarvis! Call 911, we need an ambulance!” Bruce heard the phone ringing, a calm voice answering, and Jarvis giving the address. Through all this, Bruce never took his eyes off Tony. He was coughing up blood, and it was soaking his clothes, and dripping onto Bruce’s. He pulled Tony into his arms, trying to keep calm as sobs racked through him. He could feel tears and a cold sweat on the nearly unconscious man in his arms. Tony had saved him when they’d met in the Helicarrier. A ghost of a smile drifted across Tony’s face, and Bruce held him tighter, letting out a loud, heartbreaking sob. He’d shown Bruce a reason to stay alive. He couldn’t let Tony go like this. He had to save Tony, like Tony had saved him.

           

Bruce was snapped back to reality when Pepper walked in. She had been called in to sign Tony’s release forms, as she was still listed as his closest relation. She looked a little disheveled, like she’d just woken up. She was wearing an unbuttoned white blouse with a tank top underneath, and a pair of black running pants. The secretary passed her a small stack of forms, and directed her into the waiting room. Pepper took a seat next to Bruce, letting out an exhausted sigh.

 

“Morning, Pepper.” She attempted a smile, wiping the loose hair out of her face.

 

“Hi, Bruce. How’s Tony’s evaluation going?” Pepper asked, flicking through the pile of papers.

 

“Pretty good, I think. He’s up and on his feet, he can talk, I think he’s gonna pass pretty easily.”

 

“Is he…” Pepper trailed off, gesturing helplessly at her head, “acting weird?” Bruce shrugged.

 

“Yeah, a little. He can’t really focus on anything, and he keeps going blank in the middle of his sentences. He’s not really all there.” Bruce explained, shuffling awkwardly in his seat. Pepper nodded, and resolutely turned back to the paperwork. It was understandably awkward for her to talk about Tony, so Bruce let the subject drop and left her to the forms. He began tapping his foot restlessly, mentally urging Tony to hurry up and get out of the doctor’s office. Bruce was anxious to discover the results of the examination and get home, preferably with Tony.

 

The waiting room was very quiet, the only sounds coming from the nurses calling patients forward, and the occasional crescendo of New York city street life when someone opened the front door. An uncomfortable, sterile scent hung in the air, with an undertone of some unpleasant, sickly smell. That smell brought back bad memories for nearly everyone who’d spent a stint of time in hospital, but maybe even more so for Bruce. The times he’d been in hospitals were the lowest points of his life. After the radiation accident, after his suicide attempt, when he was giving blood to his cousin and inadvertently turning her into a monster like him, and now this. Another miserable hospital memory in a long string of others like it.

 

Just then, Dr. Mitchener opened the door. He immediately spotted Pepper and Bruce, and beckoned them inside. Pepper stuck her pen into her hair, and followed Bruce into the doctor’s office. Tony sat in a chair to the left of the desk, absently drumming his fingers against a bottle of water. He didn’t register Bruce and Pepper’s presence until they had both sat down right next to him, when he suddenly jumped.

 

“Bruce! And Pe…Pepper. Hi.” Tony’s ex-wife nodded stiffly in his direction, and attempted a smile. She tentatively chose the seat furthest from Tony, leaving Bruce to sit between the two of them. He settled into the middle chair, turning to greet Tony, but he was already back in his own thoughts, zoning out of the real world. With a sigh, Bruce turned back to the desk. Dr. Mitchener dove straight into an explanation of Tony’s condition, medication, and what to expect. As he spoke, Bruce’s eyes wandered across the room to Tony’s face. He looked like he was stuck in some puzzling daydream, his features softer than usual, but his brow slightly furrowed. One finger rested on his chapped pink lips, his elbow on the desk in front of him. His eyes were glazed over, staring absently at the opposite wall. His spiky brown hair was sticking up and its customary messy, yet flattering angles, like he’d just rolled out of bed. He was slowly beginning to look healthier, a subtle red glow returning to his cheeks.

 

            Looking a Tony without him realizing made Bruce notice things he’d never noticed before. He noticed how his peachy skin looked so flawlessly soft and smooth. He noticed the way his chestnut brown eyes shone like the most radiant stars on a clear night. He noticed the way his perfectly sculpted shoulders were just barely visible through his hoodie, and his strong, angular jawbone. Of course, Bruce had noticed that Tony was handsome before. It was hard to miss, with all the girls throwing themselves at his feet. But only now did Bruce really realize just how stunning Tony was.

 

Tony liked science, liked knowing the reason for everything, solid facts and numbers. But in this case, no amount of facts and statistics could explain what was going on in his head. He sometimes went from ten billion thoughts racing around at the speed of sound, to a completely blank, emotionless mind in just a few seconds. It was like he had lost control over his own body and brain. Sometimes things felt dull, like he was hearing and seeing everything through a fogged up window. Other times everything was shockingly bright and loud, overloading his senses until he just wanted to curl up in a corner and sleep forever. Right now it wasn’t so bad, and he was sitting in a nondescript doctor’s office with Bruce and Pepper, talking to Dr. Mitchener.

 

“Tony? Tony?” Tony realized the doctor was talking to him, and shifted his attention back to the conversation at hand. “ There you are. Now, what you’re experiencing right now is the prodromal phase. It’s quite possible that soon you’ll start experiencing hallucinations, movement disorders or spasms, and difficulty thinking clearly. I believe that the patient should be totally involved in the recovery process, and it’s your right to know everything that’s happening to you. Do you understand what I’m saying?” Tony nodded, his eyes drifting across to Bruce and Pepper’s concerned faces peering out at him. The doctor continued, this time addressing Bruce. “Am I correct in thinking you’re going to be staying at home with Tony for a little while to make sure he’s settled back in okay?”

 

“Yeah, I mean, so long as that’s alright with him.” Bruce answered, suddenly very interested in the floor by his feet.

 

“Yeah!” Tony encouraged, welcoming the thought of having someone else in the house. “There’s an empty apartment on the floor below, it’s all yours.”

 

“Fantastic. Now, Miss Potts, if you’ll just sign the release forms, you can all be on your way home. Now about medication, we’re going to start you off on some Prolixin and Thorazine, and see how that goes. You take one pill of each a day, right before you go to bed.” Dr. Mitchener handed two bottles of pills to Bruce, who stuck them in a bag by his feet. Pepper passed the release form back to Dr. Mitchener, who took a moment to review it. “Okay then, everything seems to be in order, you’re all free to go.” Pepper quickly took her leave, thanking the doctor and slipping out of the room before Bruce had even stood up. Tony and Bruce both shook Dr. Mitchener’s hand, before heading out towards the car park.

           

“Do we need to stop by your hotel to get your stuff?” Tony asked, sliding into the passenger seat of Bruce’s BMW.

 

“No, I brought it with me. Figured you’d want to get straight home.” He put the key in the ignition, and after a couple tries the car started. Soon they were cruising down the street, AC/DC blaring from the speakers. They didn’t talk much, save for Tony’s loud singing along to the music. He kept nudging and poking Bruce until eventually he gave in, and they drove through the tangled webs of New York traffic, singing and laughing. It was almost too easy for both of them to just forget everything that had happened over the last couple of weeks, and just live again. Unfortunately that was over all too soon, as they pulled up in front of Stark Tower. The music cut out, and the sound of the engine died down. Bruce grabbed his battered suitcase before following Tony into the lobby, and then into the elegantly designed elevator. As the elevator shot up, Bruce could feel Tony’s anticippation, his eagerness to return home. After a minute or so, the door slid open with a ding. Tony stepped out of the elevator, pausing to take everything in. Bruce followed him, gently placing his suitcase against the wall.

 

“Good to be home?” Bruce asked, watching the corners of his friend’s mouth turn up into a smile.

 

 

 


	6. Zombies and Chinese Food

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night Tony arrives home from the hospital, they decide to order Chinese.

Bruce threw his suitcase onto the bed, and watched it sink into the soft brown duvet. Because of his sudden change of plans, his belongings were still packed away in boxes at his old house in Ohio. He still had to talk to the owner of the apartment he had been planning on moving into and call off the deal, but that was something to worry about later. It only took a few minutes to unpack his four changes of clothes, some books, and toiletries. Once that was done, he collapsed onto the polished wooden bed. Bruce looked around the room, admiring the tasteful design. The furniture was all sleek mahogany with accents of stainless steel, and stepping on the soft, cream coloured carpet felt like walking on clouds. The only issue with the room was the dust, which had accumulated from months of neglect. Tony’s penthouse used to be beautifully maintained, but after his traumatic breakup with Pepper, his home had fallen into a state of disrepair.  
Bruce had been expecting to be staying on a different floor, but much to his surprise, Tony had given him a room right down the hall from his own. “Well, you’re supposed to be watching out for me, aren’t you?” Tony had said. “Can’t do that too well if you’re not even in the same apartment.” Bruce had been living alone for around twenty years, so suddenly living right down the hall from a man who was making him question his own sexuality was a pretty big leap.  
At that moment, the man in question appeared in the doorway. “Hey Bruce, there isn’t really any food in the fridge so I’m gonna order something. You lwant anything in particular?” Bruce propped himself up on his elbows, looking to see Tony with a handful of takeaway menus.  
“I wouldn’t mind Chinese, but whatever you want’s good.” He replied noncommittally.  
“Chinese it is then!” Tony answered with a smile, disappearing from sight. Bruce was surprised at how lively Tony seemed, considering the lengthy list of symptoms he’d been told to look out for. Maybe the fliers were making it seem worse than it really is, Bruce mused, as he swung his feet over the side of the bed. He padded across the room, contemplating the shelf of books in front of him. Most of the books were Tony’s, with a few of Bruce’s own additions. The majority were about science and technology, but there were a few science fiction and crime novels thrown into the mix. He skimmed the shelves, spotting some familiar titles. He pulled a book off the shelf, the title Animal Farm written in bold red font across the top. Bruce laughed. “Haven’t seen this one since sophomore English.” He muttered to himself, flipping the dusty paperback over in his hands.  
Suddenly, a loud shattering noise sounded from the kitchen. Bruce immediately dropped the book and sprinted out of the room, all the way down the hall to the room the sound had come from. When he burst into the room he found Tony standing behind the counter, staring at his outstretched hands. A shattered mug lay on the ground in front of him, fragments of china spread across the floor.  
“Tony, are you okay? What happened?” Bruce asked, stepping tentatively towards his friend. Tony stayed frozen, staring blankly at his hands. Eventually, he spoke.  
“I- I don’t know. It was like…” he trailed off, his hands dropping limply to his sides.  
“Like what?” Bruce prompted, tenderly walking closer. Tony shook his head.  
“It was like there were these voices, in my head, telling me to… to drop it.” His voice faded, and he looked over to Bruce. “I’m sorry.” His eyes looked so scared, and for a moment he was a lost little boy, a mixture of confusion, innocence and fear. All Bruce wanted to do was protect him from whatever was causing this, but he couldn’t protect Tony from himself. Bruce took one more step towards him, gently reaching out an arm.  
“Come on, Tony, come over here. I’ll clean up the mug. It’s okay. Just sit down. I got it.” Tony nodded weakly, moving around the shattered porcelain. He slumped into a chair, and Bruce picked up a dustpan and brush from under the sink. He silently began to sweep up the shards of broken china, smoothly and methodically running the brush across the floor. He worked quickly, and in a few minutes the floor was clear. He stood, dumping the remains of the dish into the trash.  
‘Thanks.” Tony said softly, as Bruce walked over to the table where he sat.  
“No problem.” Bruce replied. “Should we order the food now?” 

 

Once the food had been ordered, the two men were left with nothing to do while they waited the twenty minutes for the delivery.  
“We could watch a movie?” Tony suggested, gesturing to the sofa and plasma screen TV. “There might be something good on Netflix.” Bruce could tell that Tony was still shaken from his episode, and gladly complied. He followed Tony through the doorway to the large, open living room, and Tony started speaking. “Jarvis? Fire up Netflix, see what’s good.”  
“Right away, sir.” Came the computer’s smooth reply, as the TV flickered on. Behind the huge flat screen, the New York City skyline glowed with the lights from a thousand buildings in the fading night sky. Tony collapsed onto the modern looking L-shaped red sofa, and looked over to Bruce expectantly. Bruce trailed over to the couch, and settled down on the other side of the corner from Tony. There was a glass coffee table between them, with a patch of faded shoe marks from Tony using it as a footrest. Tony leant back into the sofa, still visibly tense.  
“Mr, Stark, your top suggestions for films to watch are as follows: The Hangover 2, Inception, and 28 Days Later.” Bruce looked puzzled.  
“What?” Tony asked, twisting to look towards his friend.  
“What’s 28 Days Later about?” He asked, confused as to why it was a top recommendation.  
“What? How can have never heard of that movie? It’s the zombie movie. This is a disgrace. We’re watching it, right now.” Tony said, some of his usual cheer returning to his voice. “Jarvis? Fire up 28 Days Later.”  
“Right away, sir.” Came the computer’s smooth reply. The screen went black and the lights dimmed, as the familiar 21st century Fox theme song began to play. Tony settled into the couch, his eyes on the screen, but his mind elsewhere. Bruce looked away, trying to enjoy the movie, but his mind was preoccupied with Tony. He’d been told to expect the symptoms to start manifesting pretty soon, but that didn’t mean he was by any means ready for it. Aside from the hearing voices, Tony’s mood was also changing very quickly. A minute ago he looked to be on the verge of tears, and now he’s laughing and joking around like he always does.  
Bruce was jerked back to reality by the full frontal view of a very naked man on screen. Bruce gasped audibly, before realising that Tony would definitely make fun of him for being a prude. He looked away, feeling awkward. Tony snorted.  
“C’mon Bruce, like you’ve never seen another guy’s junk before.” He said, moving close enough to Bruce to lightly punch his arm. Bruce turned back towards the screen, his face lightly tinted red. “Besides,” Tony continued. “It’s not even that big.” Bruce looked at him, confused.  
“What?” Bruce asked, surprised. Tony shrugged, nonchalantly looking back to the television.  
“I’ve seen bigger.” He reiterated. Bruce shifted towards him, his cheeks getting redder by the minute.  
“Do you…um…” Bruce said delicately, unsure how to ask his question. “Have you seen a lot of… dicks?” Tony shrugged again.  
“A few, why?” Bruce shrugged, trying to hide his blush. Tony laughed to himself, clearly enjoying Bruce’s embarrassment. “Haven’t you?” Tony asked, clearly already knowing the answer. Bruce shifted uncomfortably.  
“No, not really.” He mumbled, feeling increasingly awkward.  
“C’mon, Bruce, you gotta live a little.” Tony joked, focusing his attention back to the movie. The character was now dressed, and outside. During their conversation Tony had moved closer to Bruce, and now he was only a foot away. Bruce could feel his heart speeding up, a warmth spreading from his chest. He began to fidget, trying to distract himself from the way Tony’s hand lay absently between the two of them, almost begging to be held. He could almost feel the heat from his calloused fingers, as they inattentively brushed against his thumb. However much he tried to focus on the movie, his eyes kept drifting back to Tony. Each time he caught himself staring, he would hastily jerk his eyes back to the screen, praying that Tony wouldn’t notice. Just as the hero of the movie was bravely starting to fight off the zombies, the movie paused and Jarvis’s voice came through the speakers.  
“Sir, your food delivery is here.” He informed the two men. Tony sat up, waving a hand at the screen.  
“Let him up.” He instructed the AI.  
“Right away, sir.” With that, the lights came back up to their normal intensity, and Bruce stood. The elevator doors dinged open, and a somewhat shocked looking young man stepped out. Bruce took the bag containing the food, and thanked the deliveryman. “Tony, did you already pay for the food?”  
“Hm?” Tony asked, realising Bruce had been talking to him. “Yeah, yeah, I got it.” Bruce took the food, passing it to Tony who began opening the boxes. The delicious scent of freshly made dumplings and exotic sauces blossomed from the table, and Bruce realised just how hungry he was. He sat down next to Tony as the delivery boy re-entered the elevator, the doors sliding shut with a smooth ping.  
“Did we order drinks?” Bruce asked, reaching for a box of noodles.  
“No, but there’s some beer in the fridge. Want one?” Tony asked, slowly walking towards the kitchen area.  
“Sure, but, uh, Tony?” Bruce asked, unsure of how to phrase what he was about to say.  
“Yeah?” Tony replied, pulling open the refrigerator door and rummaging through its contents.  
“Maybe you shouldn’t be drinking… you know, since you just got out of the hospital and everything.” Tony sighed, swinging the fridge shut with a can of beer in one hand.  
“Fine, I’ll have coke.” Tony whined, reaching into a cupboard above his head where there were rows upon rows of soda, no doubt organised by Pepper when she still lived there, and not touched since. He grabbed a can, and made his way back towards the sofa. “Catch!” he called to Bruce, throwing his drink towards him, and swinging his legs over the top of the sofa. He slid back into his seat, and instructed Jarvis to start the movie up again. Both men popped open their drinks, before digging into the feast of Asian cuisine in cardboard boxes laid out before them. Within minutes, both men were once again enraptured in the apocalyptic world on screen in front of them. Bruce’s attention remained mostly on the movie, but every so often he would catch himself staring across the room at Tony again. Once, he could have sworn he saw Tony staring back.  
Two hours of zombies and seven boxes of takeout later, Bruce and Tony were struggling to stay awake. They were both slumped lazily across the sofa, half asleep.  
“Hey Tony?” Bruce yawned. “Maybe you should just go to bed now. You just got back from the hospital, you could probably use some sleep. I can clean this stuff up,” he said, gesturing at the half full Chinese boxes littering the table. “Don’t worry.”  
“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea. Thanks.” Tony replied, standing up in a daze. He started towards his bedroom, as Bruce began to seal up the boxes.  
“Night, Bruce.” He called, sliding his bedroom door open.  
“Night, Tony.” Bruce replied softly, as the door shut with a gentle thud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gah sorry it took me so long to update, I was out of the country. Anyways, hope you enjoyed!


	7. Old Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce and Tony get a visit from some old friends, and things get a little out of hand.

By the time Tony woke, Bruce had already been up for hours. Tony stumbled down the hall, running a hand through his dishevelled hair. It was good to be waking up in his own home again, Tony decided as he jabbed some buttons on the coffee machine, and a low humming began. Bruce looked up from his book, having not noticed Tony when he first walked into the room.

“Morning.” Bruce greeted him, before turning back to his plate of toast. Tony acknowledged the greeting with a small grunt before replying,

“Same to you.” He grabbed his mug off the small tray on the coffee machine and trudged over to the table, before planting himself in a seat next to Bruce. He drank his coffee in silence, Bruce engrossed in his book and Tony in his thoughts. After a couple of minutes, Bruce spoke.

“Oh yeah, I, uh, forgot to mention. Agent Hill called, she’s gonna come over later with Clint to check up on you. Probably Fury’s idea.”

Tony snorted, downing the last of his bitter coffee. “Of course it was Fury’s idea. Maria wouldn’t come over here unless it was under orders, even if I paid her.” Bruce rolled his eyes, unsurprised by Tony’s cynicism.

“You know she doesn’t actually hate you, it’s sort of her job to act like she does.” Tony gave Bruce a look, to which he raised his hands defensively.

“Yeah, whatever. I’m gonna go take a shower, later.” Tony said, pushing his chair away and abandoning his breakfast at the kitchen table. Bruce sighed, absentmindedly running a hand through his hair. He wished Tony wouldn’t doubt himself like that. He really was an amazing person, but he just refused to see it. Bruce found himself missing the old Tony, who’d always been the one to shove how great he thought he was in everyone’s face. Looking back, Bruce found himself wondering if that had just been a facade, hiding his true insecurities behind a layer of narcissism. He sighed, taking another swig of his coffee. It was far to early in the morning for these kind of thoughts.

Bruce gathered the used breakfast dishes, stacking them neatly in the sink. He figured they had about three hours until Maria and Clint arrived, so he had plenty of time to take a shower and clean the place up a bit. He started back down the hallway to his bedroom, already thinking about what he was going to say to the two SHIELD agents when they arrived that afternoon.

 

A few hours later, Bruce and Tony were both showered, dressed, and lounging around in the living room, awaiting their guests arrival. Tony was trying to appear relaxed, but Bruce could see him tugging at the neckline of his shirt, a tell tale sign that he was nervous. Tony and Maria got along fairly well, but he honestly barely new Clint. He seemed like a decent guy, but he had spent most of New York under Loki’s mind control, so they hadn’t really gotten to know each other. Personally, Bruce thought it would be easier for Tony if Fury had sent Natasha instead, but she must be out on a mission or something of that sort.

Bruce was brought back to reality by Jarvis’s voice smoothly alerting them that the two SHIELD agents had arrived.

“Let ‘em up.” Tony instructed his AI, swinging his hand from behind the sofa and landing it on his knee. Bruce pushed himself off of the sofa, walking around and leaning against the sofa’s other side. The elevator doors slid open, and a pretty, red haired woman stepped out, followed by her muscular companion. She swished over to Bruce, smiling in a way that would have seemed sincere coming from anyone else, but he could never be too sure with Maria.

“Doctor Banner, long time no see. How’re you doing?” She asked, her hands hanging loosely from her back pockets.

“Fine, thanks.” Bruce replied, returning Maria’s smile. “And I think you can probably call me Bruce by now.” She laughed, stepping into the room. Tony cleared his throat from behind them, drawing the focus of the room.

“Hey, Agent Hill, Barton. How’s stuff been?” he asked, not quite making eye contact. He was clearly nervous, maybe even a little embarrassed about his condition. However, Bruce could see him relax into his usual carefree snark when Maria passed the sofa, coming to sit next to him.

“It’s been good, Stark. Busy, but good.” With the word busy she glanced over to Clint, who gave her a knowing smile. Bruce was curious, but decided it was best to let things be. After all, they were SHIELD agents. They probably couldn’t talk about it anyways.

“Oh, uh, can I get you a drink?” Bruce asked, turning to their visitors.

“I’ll have a beer.” Clint answered, pulling off his sleek black sunglasses.

“I’m fine, thanks.” Maria added, before turning back to Tony and attempting to start a conversation. As Bruce poured drinks from the small kitchenette, he could hear Maria asking questions, and Tony replying with shaky, false enthusiasm. Bruce sighed. He knew that Tony wanted everyone to believe he was fine, but this all just seemed so forced. Maybe it was too early for people to be visiting. He still needed time to adjust.

Bruce rejoined the others in the open area with two cans of beer, and a glass of water for Tony. He sat down next to Clint, sinking into the upholstered red fabric.

“So. How is it, being back at Stark Towers?” Clint asked, breaking the slightly tense silence.

“It’s fine. It’s good. Good to be back to real food after hospital food for a week.” Tony finished with a laugh.

“Yeah, real food.” Clint said, gesturing to the trashcan, which was overflowing with takeaway boxes and wrappers. Tony shrugged, a playful smile flitting across his lips.

“Hey, you can’t talk, Barton.” Maria jabbed, a mischievous glint in her eyes. She leaned in to Bruce, launching eagerly in to a story. “When he and Romanoff got back from their last mission in Cancun, he ate nothing but takeaway and coffee for a week.” Bruce and Tony’s smiles broke into laughs, as Clint shoved Maria’s shoulder, trying to look disgruntled, but smiling too hard to make a real effort.

Now that everyone was acting a little bit more like themselves, the conversation flowed much easier. Clint told stories about the few missions he could actually talk about, and Tony added some about his crazy drunken nights in Vegas. Bruce didn’t have many interesting stories to tell, but he still enjoyed listening, laughing and agreeing with his fellow Avengers. After a while, the conversation began to shift towards Tony, and his condition. Bruce could see Tony retract as Maria continued.

“So what do they think triggered this outburst?” she asked, the shift from civilian to spy visible. Tony shrugged, looking away.

“Something about residual palladium poisoning. I dunno.” He muttered into his glass, staring intently at the swirling water.

“Do you think this all started during the conflict with the Mandarin, or after your overdose?” She pushed, leaning in to Tony, her tone bordering on aggression. Each question hit him like a punch, pushing him further back into his shell. This social call had turned into an interrogation. It was clear he didn’t want to discuss the matter, but Maria pushed on.

“Do you think you’re ever going to go back to being Iron Man?”

“Agent Hill…” Clint put a hand on her forearm, giving her a warning glare. Bruce made to say something to Tony, but a glance form Clint stopped him in his tracks. Tony slammed his glass down on the table, water sloshing everywhere. He stared straight ahead, visibly shaking with anger. The room was silent for a few seconds, the tension nearly palpable, nobody daring to speak. Tony burst to his feet, turning away from the small group assembled on the sofa.

“Thanks for coming by, guys,” he yelled, his voice caught between tears and rage. “So _fucking_ glad you missed me!” The sentence was punctuated by Tony slamming the door to his workshop, shutting the room into silence. Maria, Bruce and Clint looked at each other in a stunned silence. Bruce stood, jerkily clearing the coffee table, and thrusting the dishes into the sink. The two SHIELD agents seemed to be having some sort of silent conversation, a mix of looks and gestures that were common between the two. Clint opened his mouth to speak, but Bruce beat him to it.

“You should go.” He said, staring at the pair. “Both of you.”

“But what about-“ Maria started, but she was once again cut off.

“I’ll deal with Tony. You’ve done enough damage.” Maria looked as though she wanted to protest, but Clint pulled her towards the elevator, giving Bruce a nod as the doors slid shut.

            “Jarvis, can you give me visual on those two?” Bruce asked, collapsing onto the couch. A video popped up of Clint and Maria in the midst of a heated debate.

“What were you thinking?” Clint fumed, pacing the elevator.

“I thought he could handle it! I thought Banner would stop me if I was getting out of hand!” She yelled, a complete contrast from her usual calculated composure.

“Well in case you haven’t noticed, Bruce isn’t exactly all there either. The guy’s out of it, you should’ve noticed. That’s what you’re trained for, for fucks sake! He was cracking jokes all through New York, he didn’t even try today!” He yelled back, his voice rough and untamed. Clint ran a hand through his air, closing his eyes and trying to regain his control. For a few seconds, the only sound was the sound of Clint drawing slow, deep breaths. “He’s not himself.” Clint finished, turning back to face Maria. The elevator ride finished in silence, both avoiding eye contact. The elevator slowed to a halt and Clint stepped out, followed by Maria. The video feed blinked off.

Bruce pulled off his glasses, running his hands over his face in exasperation. They weren’t wrong. He was a little gone. There was just so much going on. The stress of taking care of Tony and trying to fight feelings for him, piled on top of his own charming cocktail of anger issues and self hatred, it was all getting to be too much. How could he be trusted to take care of another person when he could barely keep himself alive? Bruce stayed there on the couch for a few minutes, head in hands, inhaling and exhaling. In and out. In and out. Eventually, his breathing became steady once again. The sofa creaked ever so slightly as he stood up, snatching his glasses up from the table. He crossed the room, trying the door down to Tony’s lab. It was unlocked. He pushed it open tentatively, peeking around the corner. The room was a mess. Loose parts were strewn everywhere, likely abandoned months ago. A thin layer of dust had collected over his workbench, save for a section in the middle that Tony hand clearly recently cleared off. Papers formed precariously tall piles, just barely on the verge of collapsing. Bruce scanned the room, looking for the owner of the cluttered workshop. He was nowhere to be seen.

“Tony?” He called, stepping cautiously around stacks of metal scraps and instruments. ‘You down here?” He manoeuvred through to the centre of the room, where Tony had parked a vintage sports car, from which he often worked, using holographic projections from a small device on the hood. Bruce peered inside, not expecting to find much. To his surprise, he found Tony collapsed on the floor of the car, his head resting on the tan leather seat, several broken gadgets scattered around his body. His face was squished against the material, and he was snoring softly. Bruce was nearly laughing, until he got a closer look at Tony’s face. Tear tracks stained his cheeks, and his eyes seemed red and puffy. Suddenly, the broken gadgets made sense. _He must’ve had a panic attack_. Bruce felt a sudden surge of guilt. He should’ve been down here with Tony, calming him down. Instead, he’d been too busy thinking about his own problems.

            He couldn’t just leave Tony here. Bruce knew firsthand how uncomfortable sleeping in a car could be. He’d wake up all stiff and moody, and god knows that’s the last thing he needed. Bruce stood by the side of the car, contemplating his options. He could just try to put him on the seat of the car, but he’d be likely to roll off. He could… he could always…. _Carry him upstair_ s? Bruce rolled his eyes, barely believing what he was about to do.

“Okay, come on.” He said, more to himself than to Tony, as he heaved him up onto the car’s bench like front seat. He stared at Tony for a minute, trying to decide how best to do this. He put one arm under Tony’s knees, and the other just under his arms. With a grunt, he pulled Tony off of the seat, his head rolling back over Tony’s arm. His mouth hung open, and half of his face had been left red from the warm leather. Pulling Tony closer to him, Bruce slowly began to navigate his way through the haphazard wreck of Tony’s workroom. “Ah, fuck.” Bruce cursed under his breath, stumbling over a poorly placed piece of scrap metal. His eyes immediately whipped to Tony’s face, checking that he hadn’t been woken. Luckily, he snored on. Bruce started once again through the lab, stopping every once in a while to adjust his hold on Tony. Bruce tried to focus on staying upright, but his mind kept straying to the feel of Tony’s muscles through his clothing, and the way he was curling into Bruce’s chest, and the way his hair was sticking up at hundreds of perfectly mussed angles. He tried to ignore Tony’s hand brushing ever so gently against his thigh, and the way he could feel the heat radiating form every inch of his skin. Bruce was beginning to think that this might have been a bad idea, but it was too late now.

He’d reached the staircase that led to the main area, but it was blocked by a sleek glass door. He managed to shift Tony so his head was resting on Bruce’s neck, and proceeded to type in the combination for the door. It slid open, and Bruce slid through. Now for the next challenge, the stairs. The stairwell was nearly too small to fit both of them through, but Bruce persevered. He’d barely taken two steps when he heard the hollow thud of Tony’s head banging the wall. “Shit!” he exclaimed, as Tony winced in his sleep. He tried to turn, but ended up hitting the sleeping man’s head once again. With an exasperated sigh, Bruce decided to change tactics. He tightened his grip on Tony’s legs, and swung his torso across his shoulder. He started up the stairs once again, gently this time to avoid Tony’s head bouncing too much. It was slow progress, but he eventually reached the living room. Bruce swung Tony back to his original position, carrying him bridal style through the hall and to his bedroom.

Bruce kicked the door open and padded through to Tony’s unmade four-poster bed. He laid him down gently on the mattress, and let out a relieved sigh. He’d managed to carry him all the way upstairs still asleep. Bruce perched on the edge of the bed, taking a minute to catch his breath. While he may be relatively strong, Tony was a full grown, rather muscular, rather tall man, so carrying him was no small feat. He checked the time. It was only eight, but he was already very tired. Bruce stood to leave, but something was holding him back. He turned back to Tony, stepping closer to his sleeping form. _This is crazy_ , Bruce thought as he bent down, leaning closer to Tony. He hovered there hesitantly, caught between logic and desire. _Oh, what the hell._ Bruce thought, brushing the hair from Tony’s forehead. Ever so gently he leaned closer, pressing his lips softly against Tony’s forehead. His skin was warm and soft, if a little bit sweaty. Bruce smiled, the heat from Tony’s skin tingling across his face. “Night, Tony.” He whispered, a smile ghosting across his face as he ever so slowly left the room and switched off the lights.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I wasn't going to publish this chapter just yet, but I'm leaving for three weeks and I won't have internet so I didn't want to leave this un-updated. I wasn't going to post it because none of my beta readers have replied to me for the last couple of weeks so it's relatively unedited, but it's definitely better than nothing! On that note, if there's anyone who'd be interested in beta reading for this story, let me know!


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